


The Trouble With Chocolate

by MirandaRiver



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hot Chocolate, accidental intoxication, friends to relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaRiver/pseuds/MirandaRiver
Summary: "In her defense, she had no idea that Vulcans had such a reaction to chocolate."Nyota brings Spock some hot chocolate as they grade papers. Unbeknownst to the both of them, chocolate brings out some amorous tendencies in the normally straight laced Vulcan. Rated M for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

In her defense, she had no idea that Vulcans had such a reaction to chocolate. It wasn’t as if there was anything in the textbook for interspecies ethics, nor did she remember anything in her individual reading that she wouldn’t admit to, even to Gaila. It was for purely intellectual reasons, since she was planning to do her thesis on pre-Surakian Vulcan culture but Gaila would tease her mercilessly for the supposed crush she had on their Vulcan instructor. It was best just to keep these things to herself. So through her extensive reading on Vulcans, she could say with authority that there was nothing about Vulcans and chocolate.  
Nothing. There was nothing into Vulcan: An Ethnography by Dr. Amanda Grayson, nor anything in An Introduction to Vulcan and Vulcan Culture, nor even Vulcan: Its Culture and History, the only four books that Starfleet’s library had on Vulcans. Of course, everyone knew that Vulcans were a notoriously private race, thus it was nothing short of remarkable that there was even any information about them. Frankly, Nyota was surprised that there was an ethnography and kept an eye out for any new scholarship by Amanda Grayson, despite the fact that the ethnography itself was close to thirty years old and her latest journal article was fifteen years old. Nyota wondered what had caused Amanda Greyson to stop publishing and spent a significant amount of her afternoon looking for any information about Dr. Greyson. All she could find was that Dr. Greyson eventually married a Vulcan ambassador to Earth after working as a translator and then moved to Vulcan, which prompted her ethnography. After that, other than the one journal article, there was nothing.  
Even as a fluent speaker of Vulcan, Nyota there was surprisingly little information that wasn’t diplomatically nor militaristically based. There were books that told the basic history of Vulcan, the teachings of Surak, some poetry, but nothing, nothing about the Vulcan reaction to chocolate.  
She was trying to do a good thing, bringing them both hot chocolate from the nearby café that they both enjoy. They were planning to spend the afternoon grading papers and Nyota thought that it would be a nice way to make the time go by. The class had been trying for both her and Spock; while there had been a few students who were curious, intelligent and serious, there were also students who could barely tell a Romulan from an Orion, despite the class being Introduction to Interspecies Cultures and Ethics. It was going to be a massive headache to read these essays and Nyota thought hot chocolate would at least make the time passable. She walked across the campus, admiring the lights and decorations that the last remaining students had put up in order to bring some holiday cheer to an otherwise dreary campus.  
The campus for the most part was deserted. There were a few students still on campus for various reasons, from working on research projects to not wanting or unable to make it home for the holidays. Nyota herself was leaving for Cairo tomorrow, where her parents were currently vacationing. She would meet them there before going back to their home in New Addis Abada, where her four sisters and brother would all convene for the holidays, as well as her assorted nieces and nephews. There was a rumor that her brother, Ayo, was bringing home someone, but no one could tell for certain if this was for certain or just a rumor to mess with their mother, Amara. Nyota was all packed, ready to go and was looking forward to getting this grading over with.  
Of course, it would be nice to spend some time with Spock—Professor Spock—before the holidays began. Should she say something about the holidays, ask him what he planned to do? Was it too familiar? They could easily discuss academic subjects, everything from Vulcan phenomenology to his work on the Kobiashi Maru but as she walked across campus she realized she knew relatively little about her advisor, especially compared to her other professors. She knew, for example, that Professor Campbell had two sons, one who loved basketball and who often came to watch athletic tournaments on campus. She knew that Campbell had trouble conceiving her two sons, and both pregnancies had been difficult. Professor Reinhart had met her husband as a cadet in Starfleet, while he was an officer. She knew that Reinhart loved romance novels and read them during her lunch break to unwind after her classes on interspace conflict. But Professor Spock? She knew he was a genius in programming, that he was a leading expert on the Vulcan language, that he found her research “fascinating” and would often send her articles pertaining to her research interests. She knew he held the rank of commander, and had served on the Farragut before his teaching. She knew he liked chess. Other than that, there was nothing she knew about Professor Spock. Did he enjoy music? What about reading? Did he truly read all those articles that he sent her, and did he really think of her when he read them? Did he read them sitting in a chair, or did he prefer reading in bed?  
She shook her head. These thoughts were ridiculous. Professors Reinhart and Campbell were female, and she had known them for years, which explained why she knew more about them than her Vulcan professor, whom she had only known for two. Vulcans were notoriously private individuals and as a male, Professor Spock was less likely to divulge information to a female student. More importantly, there was no reason for her to know his reading preferences and she needed to find another line of thinking now before she reached his office, blushing like crazy.  
It was crazy to think this way. She was quite sure that he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash even if she were to strip naked in front of him.  
With a sigh and a shake of her head, she walked up the steps of the linguistics building, opening the door and walked to his office, two cups of hot chocolate in hand and a class worth’s of grading in her bag.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for their encouragement and feedback. I hope this chapter is a little easier to read than the first--I'm still getting use to AOS's formatting. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> In case it wasn't obvious, all mistakes are my own and of course I don't own any of these characters. I'm just having a bit of fun.

* * *

There were not many times that Spock was given to using human colloquialisms but in his frustration there was one that seemed especially appropriate.

His brain would just not _shut up._

Of course, that was illogical. His brain was an organ that, while vital, was not an autonomous creature and did not possess a larynx and thus the ability to talk. He was simply incapable today of controlling his thoughts. If he were Vulcan enough, he would not have this issue of endless chatter clamoring in his brain He certainly would not be given to using human colloquialisms.

Nevertheless, here he was, in his apartment, unable to meditate because his brain was too busy inundating him with needless observations about Nyota—Cadet Uhura. He did not need to ruminate on how she wore her hair, what kind of cosmetic products she used to smell the way she did? Was it jasmine? Rose, perhaps? It was something floral, but something earthy as well—a scent he could not identify. It drove him to distraction—Vulcans had a sixty percent more accurate sense of smell than humans, yet the only name he could give this smell was Nyota. Her earrings were always intriguing—sometimes they were the same color as her cadet uniform, some days they were a stone she once told him was a birthday gift from her Orion roommate that would change colors depending on the physiology of the wearer. She blushed when she said that to him, for reasons he did not want to contemplate. One day she wore gold hoops that shone in the light of his office, catching it and spreading light across the walls. That was the current focus of his thoughts, if it could be called that.

His thoughts shifted again and he wondered if she was able to procure that book she waned. He wondered if he should put her in contact with his mother, who was currently working on archival research in the High Council’s Archives. She was working on a manuscript that translated little known Vulcan texts, a project that had captured her interest since before Spock joined Starfleet. It had taken her 2.5 years to convince the Vulcan High Council to allow her—a Terran—to work on this project and Spock suspected that it was the influence on his father than eventually changed the decision from a declination to an acceptance. The manuscript was laborious work, but she called it her life’s work. There was always a new poem, a new fragment for her to translate. There were words that did not have a direct Standard equivalent and Spock estimated that there were currently two hundred footnotes, though it had been two weeks since they had last conversed.

Would it imply a personal relationship to introduce Nyota—Cadet Uhura—to his mother? Did they have a personal relationship? There was little he knew about her, outside of her academic interests. He knew she preferred coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon but this was trivial information at best. He did not know what her life was life outside the doors of the classroom, of his office.

As he watched the incense burn to a cinder, he decided he preferred it this way. These thoughts were distracting, unproductive, illogical. He had needed this time to meditate and clear his mind before grading papers but he was just as agitated and frustrated as he was when he began.

He did not blame Nyota—Cadet Uhura—for this, of course. This was his own, human failing. It was during this time like many times before—forty-nine to be exact—that he reconsidered his decision not to partake in kolinhar. He needed to keep his emotions entirely in control, before something disastrous happened.

He got up from his meditation position and put on his coat. The chill in San Francisco this time of year was almost unbearable for Vulcans, even if humans only wore a light jacket this time of year. His uniform was made of wool to accommodate his difference in body temperature, yet in his state he found it uncomfortable and the chill even colder. It illogically annoyed him—something that he accredited to his unsettled state of mind. He would have to face Nyota—Cadet Uhura soon, and between that and his feelings of not being Vulcan enough were enough to put him, as his mother would phrase it, “in a mood.” As he walked across campus, he was illogically annoyed at the decorations that were clearly against Starfleet regulations, though he knew from his own days at the academy that no senior officer would reprimand the students for them. He wondered briefly if he should perhaps converse with his father to make sure that his time had not come, despite the fact that the doctors had assured his parents that in that regard he would never be a “normal” Vulcan. They were of the opinion, of course, that as a hybrid he was not Vulcan at all, but rather some _thing_ else.

At least he did not have to concern himself with that Vulcan…affliction. It would be inopportune to return to Vulcan at this time. He had too many obligations here at Starfleet. His thoughts on the subject were interrupted as he heard someone call his name.

“Spock! Hey, Spock!” Captain Pike, four yards away, jogged towards him.

“How are you?” Pike asked, approaching him, his tone, as usual, jovial and friendly.

Spock side-stepped the question. “I am on my way to grade essays,” he said simply. As much as he found the Captain’s company agreeable, even enjoyable, he did not feel comfortable divulging his state of mind to a superior officer.

Pike grinned. “Ah, I remember those days. You have an aide helping you this semester, right? Cadet Uhura?”

Spock’s eyebrows raised. It was rare for captains to be aware of individual cadets. “I was unaware that you were aware of this information, Captain.”

Pike laughed, clapping Spock on the shoulder and jolting him. “I have my ways, Spock. Besides, it’s no secret that you stole her away from four other professors trying to get her to be their aide this semester.”

Again, Spock found himself presented with new information. Nyota—Cadet Uhura—gave no indication that she had been offered other positions. He knew that she was brilliant—possessing an intelligence far beyond those of her peers, and ambitious. She made no secret of the fact that her career goal was to serve on the _Enterprise._ Still, to choose him over four others? It must be because of her research.

He realized Pike was waiting for a response. “She chose the most logical option for her career,” he commented. It was a banal statement yet the most appropriate response.

Pike nodded. “Of course. It will certainly go a long way when she applies for a star-ship. You’ve got a reputation yourself, you know.”

Spock did know. He knew what his reputation was—there was a reason that his classes were always under maximum enrollment, often only attracting students who were taking the class for a requirement.

“Indeed,” Spock responded.  

There must have been something in his voice that betrayed the fact that he was not entirely satisfied with his reputation. “Hey,” Pike said, concerned. “Don’t worry about it. You know that Starfleet thinks you’re great. Just because some wet behind the ears cadets think you’re a hardass doesn’t mean we’re about to kick you out.”

Spock nodded. “Thank you, Captain, but I assure you that I am unconcerned with the opinions of some cadets.”

“Good man,” Pike replied. “I’m late to a meeting-I’ll see you later for a chess game, OK?”

Spock nodded again. “I would enjoy that, Captain. I believe it is customary to wish you luck at your meeting.”

Pike laughed, enjoying the Vulcan officer’s use of human idioms. “Thanks, Spock, I’ll see you around.”

The Captain’s timing was imprecise but Spock was used to this, working with the Captain prior to teaching at the Academy. There was no telling if the Captain meant two hours from now or two days, and Spock was too preoccupied with his own frustration to further inquire precisely what the Captain meant by ‘later.’ After grading papers and ridding himself of this frustration, he would inquire with the Captain later.

* * *

 

Nyota hated waiting.

This was not out of arrogance, it wasn’t as if she thought she was so important that Professor Spock should be waiting for her rather than the other way around but it was unbearably awkward starting at his locked door and waiting for him to arrive. She wondered if she should go visit another professor, killing fifteen minutes before seeing if he was in his office yet. It seemed pathetically eager to sit here and wait for him, like some lovesick school girl.

Besides, it was awkward to hold two cups of hot chocolate while balancing the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

Then, of course, her comm chimed.

She carefully placed the two hot chocolates on the floor next to her, before digging though her bag to find her comm. She sighed as she saw the ID. Gaila knew she was working today, they even talked about it before she left their room this morning.

“What is it, Gaila?” Nyota didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as she did, but there were times Gaila could try the patience of a saint.

“Jeez, Ny, calm down. I happen to know that you haven’t started grading yet, because I saw your Vulcan talking to that silver fox of a captain. He’s at least five minutes away.”

Nyota felt contrite. “I’m sorry, Gaila. Really, I am. This semester has really done a number on me. What’s up?” She hoped her tone was more conciliatory this time.

“Ha,” Gaila said somewhat sarcastically. “That’s the understatement of the century. I wanted to invite you out to get some of that nervous energy out and loosen you up. When will you finish?”

Nyota decided to ignore Gaila’s comment. “No idea. Probably at least a couple of hours? There are 70-some essays to grade.” Nyota tried to keep the reluctance out of her voice. She had planned to research tonight and get some work done. She didn’t especially feel up to drinking and dancing.

“Great!” Gaila trilled. “We’ll go out at nine. That gives you plenty of time to finish up and get ready. Nothing interesting happens after nine, anyway. That gives you plenty of time with your Vulcan,” she teased.

Nyota sighed. It was like dealing with her younger sister, Ashanti. “For the last time, he is not my Vul—“

It was this moment Professor Spock decided to walk down the hall, only a few feet away from Nyota.


End file.
